


Lovely contours of ruin

by Lleu



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Closeted Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 23:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12420057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lleu/pseuds/Lleu
Summary: The other way is perhaps less attractive but itseems to be the direction he is turning –to motorcycle gangs, contacts made in movie houses,in general to perdition – the lovely contours of ruin.An ill-advised Grindr-powered hookup.





	Lovely contours of ruin

**Author's Note:**

> Title and epigraph from Edward A. Lacey’s poem “Portrait of someone familiar”. What is the context for this? Why doesn’t Dex recognize Kent Parson? Who the fuck knows. I wrote this fic with no particular animus against Maine (not more than against any other state/the US as a whole).

“I’m not gay,” the redheaded guy says. Will, he introduced himself as. He looks around the dark parking lot with what Kent knows from long experience with ill-advised Grindr-powered hookups is nervousness.

“Sure,” Kent says. He’s not being sarcastic or — worse — patronizing. He knows what denial feels like while you’re living it even inside your own head, and it’s not something he’d make fun of. It would be easy to say, _and yet you’re meeting me at an abandoned warehouse at 10pm on a Tuesday so I can blow you_ , but what would be the point? All that'd happen would be Will would get mad and leave, and the odds of finding another cock to suck this late on a weeknight in the middle of nowhere in Maine are slim to none — at least not if he’s looking for someone under the age of 40. Anyway, god knows it’s not his job to drag people out of the closet. (How could it be, when he’s still stuck there himself?)

(He shouldn’t even be in this godforsaken state. Why had he let Sammo convince him that Maine would be a good vacation spot? He’s only been here one night and he’s already exhausted what little interest he’d had. That does it: he’ll leave in the morning, drive back down to Boston, and catch the first plane back to Vegas.)

“There’s a spot over here,” Will says, pointing. He leads the way around the warehouse itself, Kent following dutifully behind. He wants to ask something to break the ice — _come here often?_ — but he doesn’t want to scare him off.

They arrive at what must be the spot. It’s not much to look at, no different from any other section of bare warehouse wall, but it’s out of the way of any sightline from the road. Will looks a little flustered. “So...”

Kent sighs inwardly. “Here,” he says, and gets down on his knees. He looks up at Will. He does love the view from down here. “You sure you’re good? Last chance to back out.”

Will hesitates for a moment, then squares his jaw and nods. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good,” Kent says. He reaches up, looking up at Will’s face again to make sure he’s not freaking out (it’s hard to tell in this dark, but he doesn’t think so), and starts to undo the button on Will’s shorts.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Will says, half under his breath, tensing slightly.

— and, no; Kent stops what he’s doing. He needs to ask. “Is this the first time you’ve done this?” He pulls back a little to look up at Will. “I know you said you’re not gay.”

Another moment of hesitation, then: “Second.”

“Gotten head from a guy or gotten head at all?”

“...Both.” Kent can’t see it but from his tone of voice he’s guessing Will is probably blushing pretty violently right about now.

“Cool,” Kent says. “Just relax and enjoy it. I’ve been told I’m good at this.” Which is true.

Will nods. Kent takes that as his cue. He undoes the button on Will’s fly and tugs the zipper down. And that’s a dick staring him in the face, half-hard already, surrounded by a large tangle of pubic hair.

“Going commando, huh?”

“It’s too hot for anything else,” Will says. He sounds apologetic; Kent stifles a laugh and takes Will’s dick in his mouth.

“ _Shit_.” It’s that same half-under-his-breath exclamation.

It hardens as close to instantly as a dick getting hard ever is. It’s a decent size — not the biggest Kent’s ever had, but far from the smallest. Curves just a little to the left. Cut, obviously. He takes just the tip in his mouth, running his tongue around the head, then slowly takes more into his mouth, then more, until finally his nose is buried in the hair around the base, then pressing into the skin between Will’s belly button and dick.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Will says again, but this time it’s a real whisper. With time, Kent suspects he could have him making all kinds of noises — but probably not tonight. When Kent pulls back for a breath and looks up at him, Will has his head tilted back, leaning against the warehouse wall, and one arm is draped dramatically ( _Melodramatically_ , Kent thinks, resisting the urge to roll his eyes) over his face.

“Good?” Kent asks.

Will moves his arm away and looks down. He swallows, nods, and says, “Yeah.”

“Good,” Kent says, and goes back to work.

There’s no more conversation after that: just occasional sucking noises from Kent, and Will’s intermittent stream of quiet swears — mostly _fuck_ , the occasional _shit_ , and one _holy shit_ when Kent tilts his head a bit and gets Will’s cock all the way down his throat. He takes a few breaks from Will’s dick to play with his balls, running his tongue around them and sucking on them lightly. Will tenses slightly the first time he does it, but relaxes quickly.

After his third time attending to Will’s balls, he decides he’s ready to finish this, and redoubles his efforts. As he’s working on Will’s dick, he feels Will’s hand come to rest, tentatively, on the back of his head. He smiles a bit, his mouth around the head of Will’s cock. Will doesn’t seem to be sure what he actually wants to do, now that his hand is there, but it’s the thought that counts. Kent reminds himself it’s only his second time doing this.

Kent deep-throats him again and Will hisses slightly. Kent feels him buck his hips forward involuntarily, his hand clenching into a fist in Kent’s hair.

“I’m—” Will says in a choked whisper, and Kent takes that as his warning, pulling back as he feels Will’s cock throb in his mouth. A second later his mouth fills with the bitter taste of cum. He swallows once, puts his hand around Will’s dick to draw out every bit of cum.

Will’s orgasm sends one last shudder through him, and Kent lets go of him, licking a last drop off the tip as he lets Will’s cock slip out of his mouth. He sits back on his heels and looks up at Will, who’s panting slightly. Kent’s a little out of breath himself.

“That was, um.” Will searches for the right word.

“Amazing?” Kent prompts. “The best blowjob you’ve ever had?”

“...Yeah,” Will says, a little lamely. Kent laughs, not unkindly.

“You’ve got a nice dick, bro.” He puts one hand on the ground for support and pushes himself to his feet. Will’s a little taller than him, but not much, and built similarly. He almost asks him if he plays any sports, but thinks better of it — no reason to attract any attention to that part of his life.

“Do you want me to...?” Will asks after he’s tucked himself back into his shorts and zipped up his fly. He sounds a little guilty — or embarrassed, maybe. But Kent knows he doesn’t actually want to return the favor, and he’s not interested in pushing.

“Nah,” he says, “you’re good.”

There’s an awkward silence. Will finally breaks it: “Well. Um. Thanks, man.”

“No problem, bro,” Kent says.

“I should probably, um. Get going,” Will says.

“Me, too,” Kent says. They walk back to the parking lot, stop about halfway between their two cars.

“See you around, I guess,” Will says.

“Sure.” Kent wonders what Will would say if Kent asked if he could kiss him. _Guess I’ll never know_. Will’s already climbing into his car. Kent sighs internally and does the same. By tomorrow night he’ll be back in Vegas. Somehow the thought isn’t much comfort. His phone buzzes. It’s probably Grindr; some other poor, horny Mainer looking for a good time. “Well,” he says aloud to his empty car, “he’ll have to try someone else.”

He turns the key. Will’s already pulling back out onto the main road.

“See you around, bro,” Kent says, watching him go. “God, Maine is depressing.”


End file.
